Thoughtfully Alone
by SuperSockMonkey
Summary: Wilson awakes. Now he is alone, truly and thoughtfully alone. He is now left with his memories, his thoughts, and his will; and he wonders, how? What and where? And he also wonders... why? Enjoy this one shot story of regret, sadness, and a small dash of hope still left. Thank you!


_Maybe it's just me, but I love to make fan fictions where the character's personality truly comes out. The end is a bit sad, but hopeful at the same time. It certainly makes you think past Wilson's solidified expression in the game. In this one shot fan fiction, I made a few references from the __Forbidden Knowledge__ video (YouTube). I suggest watching that before reading, just a tip. Yes, I make a few scientific statements, just to define Wilson as the scientific gentleman as he is :p. Don't Starve is a wonderful game still in the works, and I am hoping for more future updates! (Wow, the Don't Starve Fanfic section only has one other story? Let's hope for more people! I'll write more if this one is a success!)_

_I entitle this, __Thoughtfully Alone.__ Favorite it, Comment, Thank you, again! Enjoy!_

_..._

Thoughtfully Alone

Wilson woke, groggily on his back. His senses were numbed and limbs aching. It was like what he dreamed inter dimensional warp traveling to feel like. The gentleman's eyes were shut tight, like he tried to escape a nightmare. But now there were only his eyelids. Breathing quietly, he twitched his fingers, and wrapped them around stiff wisps of grass. Yes, he could feel again, his senses were slowly regaining. He smelled pines, and heard birds. What?

Then there was something amidst the air, an odd, familiar voice.

"Say pal, you don't look so good. You better find something to eat before night comes."

Wilson jerked, startled into an upright position. His eyes were wide with terror and panic. He knew that voice, it had been next to him! But now, the source was gone... He breathed heavily and rose onto his shaking feet. His angles gave way right then, making him stumbles. He hit the ground hard on his knees; everything seemed against him.

There were questions, so many questions and emotions rippling inside. Where? What? How? With one last breath, Wilson slowly crawled next to a monstrous pine tree and propped himself into a comfortable position. At last, Wilson made his mind blank and free of torment and... Silence. The area was a regular temperate forest biome. Birds, yes, pines, rabbits, flowers, flint, carrots, not a bad area, nothing of threat.

"Find something to eat before it gets night." That voice, it was right, as much as he loathed it, it was right. But surely night wouldn't be so bad? Surely that knowledge wasn't so bad? He had been wrong before, oh so very wrong. There would be time for those thoughts later. He pushed himself off the rough bark and into blinding sunlight.

Squinting, Wilson hustled into hoarding mode. He was going "bananas" ripping and picking and gripping and shoving; as Wilson fondly remembered the same feeling after an experiment exploded in his face. Good times. Or perhaps a more scientific term would be primordial instinctive compulsion of survival. With hoarding.

After enough easy materials, Wilson knew that he would need wood for a fire, perhaps would have been a good idea after all. It would be a warm recovery. He fashioned a stone axe of flint and twigs and hacked mercilessly at five unfortunate pines. Through grit and sweat and grunts, Wilson worked well into sunset.

He returned to his place of spawn, next to his resting tree and assembled a makeshift campfire. He stood back to admire his handiwork, when suddenly the tree erupted in flames. Wilson shrieked in surprise and bat down both his fire and his tree- the only mile stone (or mile tree) he had would not burn this night! Didn't see that coming... Wilson angrily mumbled to himself as he built another fire on the nearby spawn clearing.

He rummaged through his inventory, his deep pockets, in search for the berries, carrots, and seeds he found earlier, about three. Wilson was nearly starved! His stomach panged in complaint. Instinctively, he cooked them over the fire on a wide conductive rock. Immediately, he scarfed them down steaming hot like there was no tomorrow, which there very well might not be, Wilson wasn't quite sure yet... He was still hungry... What else... Petals? Wilson held his nose, a gentleman shouldn't have to eat flowers. For the next few minutes, he tried to cough the rest of the chlorophyll plant matter down his windpipe. Barely successful.

He began to relax and gazed into the sunset, and then...

Night hit. Just like that. Wilson was overcome by exhaustion, but he couldn't just close his eyes, not like that- it wasn't that simple. He heard growls and moans in the night. They were hauntingly beckoning, sad, and vicious. This wasn't home.

Home. Memories flooded in. His tears flooded his eyes and blurred his sight. His throat hurt up to his nose. And he cried into the fire, his life support, his ticket through the night. Home was where those outdated chemistry books were, his classy test tubes boiled over, and where his bed- as full of clutter and post it notes as it was- waited for him.

And it was where that- that machine was. And where that radio whispered that once in a life time scientist's dream into his ear. One he didn't know that he should have refused. That secret knowledge still flooded his head, happily like it brought him to success at last. Could he use it to survive here? Do science here? He couldn't think clearly at all.

In the distance, he heard a wild moan. Was there something big out there?

Wilson could smell a river's wet seasoning in the air. Was he near one? Through his fresh tears, he gloomily looked into the darkness. It was indeed too dark to see anything. There was simply nothing at all for his human senses to pick up. Wilson realized... He was truly alone- alone with his thoughts, and nothing else. He shed another tear and inched closer to the fire, hugging his shins with his forehead on his knees. This demon that trapped him in this cage, why? Wilson thought why?

Perhaps he would never know. Perhaps this really was just a cage, to conquer, outgrow, escape- perhaps... He would find this guy, and conquer him with his own mind? Perhaps crying wasn't the most gentlemanly thing to do, or a scientifically logical action. Wilson somewhat sadly smiled, trying to reassure himself with campfire refuge stories, and math equations, and reciting the table of elements... Backwards... In order of atomic weight. He maintained this somewhat stable sanity until a sign of hope came.

Then like his prayers had been answered, daylight, his hope, suddenly flooded the arena. Wilson rubbed his dried tears from his cheeks. There was much to do today.


End file.
